These cottonwood leaves had long ago lost color but still they hung tightly on the sleeping buds. They made a distinctive rustling sound as the gentle breeze passed through their papery leaves. The rustling comforted Gus and he supposed, the cranes as well.
In a few weeks, spring buds would unseat them for the final fall. And when the last leaves dropped it would be time for the pair to join the flock and continue their migration north.
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